“Damn it,” she said under her breath as Carter’s voice hit her straight in the belly.
“Ah, hi. It’s Carter. I wonder if you might want to go out to dinner, or maybe the movies. Maybe you like plays better than movies. I should’ve looked up what might be available before I called. I didn’t think of it. Or we could just have coffee again if you want to do that. Or . . . I’m not articulate on these things. I can’t use a tape recorder either. And why would you care? If you’re at all interested in any of the above, please feel free to call me. Thanks. Um. Good-bye.”
“Ah, hi. It’s Carter. I wonder if you might want to go out to dinner, or maybe the movies. Maybe you like plays better than movies. I should’ve looked up what might be available before I called. I didn’t think of it. Or we could just have coffee again if you want to do that. Or . . . I’m not articulate on these things. I can’t use a tape recorder either. And why would you care? If you’re at all interested in any of the above, please feel free to call me. Thanks. Um. Good-bye.”
“Damn you, Carter Maguire, for your insanely cute quotient. You should be annoying. Why aren’t I annoyed? Oh God, I’m going to call you back. I know I’m going to call you back. I’m in such trouble.”
Calculating, she decided the odds were strong in her favor that he’d already left for work. She preferred the idea of talking to his answering machine in turn. When his clicked on she relaxed. Unlike Carter, she was articulate on answering machines.
“Carter, Mac. I might like to go out to dinner, or the movies, possibly a play. I have no objection to coffee. How about Friday, as it’s not a school night? Pick the activity and let me know.
“Tag, you’re it.”
“Tag, you’re it.”
See, it doesn’t have to be serious, she reminded herself. I can set the tone.
Vision in White
_________________________
Over the weekend, the New York Times published a story announcing the demise of voice mail, quoting a Vonage spokesperson who said that voicemail use had decreased 8 percent from last October to April of this year.
The story positions millennials as being primarily responsible, as the text-preferring generation has little patience for sitting through a long, droning message.
But there’s another element here: awkwardness. The piece also quotes four-time Moth StorySLAM–winner Kate Greathead, who said, “I’m fine telling a story in front of 400 strangers, but get dry-mouthed when leaving a voice mail.” But it doesn’t delve much into the why factor; what exactly is it that makes leaving a message at the beep so deeply uncomfortable?
_________________________
“Mac!” Emma called when the phone rang. “Should I get that?”
“No!” Mac rushed out, carrying a low stool. “It might be . . . I’ve got this game going on.”
“No!” Mac rushed out, carrying a low stool. “It might be . . . I’ve got this game going on.”
She set her stool on the mark, began to drape it with another ivory sheet as Carter’s voice came on.
“I imagine you can guess who this is. Saturday, starting with dinner and then, well . . . hmm. Seven o’clock. So that’s good. That’s great. I, ah, don’t know if there’s anything you particularly like to eat—or really hate, for that matter. You’d have mentioned if you were a vegan, right? I think you’d have brought that up. And I’m overthinking this again. So, I guess this concludes our game of tag. I’ll see you Saturday. Unless you need to call me about . . . I’m shutting up now. Bye.”
“He sounds so cute.”
“I imagine you can guess who this is. Saturday, starting with dinner and then, well . . . hmm. Seven o’clock. So that’s good. That’s great. I, ah, don’t know if there’s anything you particularly like to eat—or really hate, for that matter. You’d have mentioned if you were a vegan, right? I think you’d have brought that up. And I’m overthinking this again. So, I guess this concludes our game of tag. I’ll see you Saturday. Unless you need to call me about . . . I’m shutting up now. Bye.”
“He sounds so cute.”
Vision in White